


Mental Infatuation

by kirasha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-16
Updated: 2007-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley doesn't know why he watches them, or why he dreams of them. All he knows is they have something he's missing -- each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mental Infatuation

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** belly-dancing
> 
> written for [daily_deviant]()

Kingsley wasn't sure when this new fascination of his began. He'd never looked at either man as anything special before. Not until that day...  
  
It had been shortly after the end of the war and many members of the Order were still living at the house on Grimauld place, more now to hide from the witches and wizards intent on making 'heroes' of them than any need for safety from what few Death Eaters remained at large. Potter didn't seem to mind the company. Kingsley privately thought the boy believed it to be the first real family he'd ever lived with. Granger and the youngest Weasley boy had both stayed of course, along with a smattering of the older members.  
  
Kingsley, himself, had not chosen to live in the drafty old manor. There was talk of continuing the cleaning work that had been begin in the early days of the war, when Sirius Black was still alive. But even with a spot of cleaning, Kingsley wasn't sure he'd ever be comfortable living in that house. Too many memories of friends and comrades fallen. He'd never be able to understand how either of the men currently holding his attention could remain there. They, of anyone, had the most reason to want not to set foot in that house again.  
  
The job was what had brought him there that afternoon. Since war's end, his office had been contracting with Lupin to track down Greyback and the last of his followers who had fled the final battle as soon as it became clear Potter and his friends had won. The laws still wouldn't allow him to hire Lupin in any sort of permanent position. But, his superiors had given him leave -- he suspected at Mad-Eye's encouragement -- to hire the former Defense professor on a per case basis. It would seem even the Ministry could see the sense in using a werewolf to track another werewolf.  
  
No one seemed to be in the entry hall, as he entered the house, nor the kitchen, so Kingsley had made his way upstairs to the werewolf's room. The Full Moon was less than a week past. It was possible Lupin was napping, he supposed, recovering his strength still.  
  
It wasn't until he reached the first floor landing that he had noticed the first sign all was not as it seemed. From the end of the hall, he'd heard what sounded like a muffled _thud_ , as though something very heavy had fallen to the floor. Lupin's room was at that end of the hall. Perhaps the other man had gotten himself into some trouble cleaning? Making his way quickly in that direction, Kingsley had been about to knock on Lupin's door when he heard a voice that was nothing like the werewolf's rough, low tones.  
  
"Damn it, Lupin! I've told you a hundred times those Neanderthal tendencies of yours at this time of the month were going to cause you to break the bed one of these days!"  
  
The sounds of muffled laughter had covered Kingsley's gasp of surprise when he recognized the sharp-edged voice of _Severus Snape_! That a second laugh joined what he assumed was Lupin's merely added further shock to already blossoming surprise.  
  
"I guess this means I'm wearing a belly-dancing costume tonight," Lupin's amused response had barely filtered through the closed door. But the image of Remus Lupin clad only in sheer scarves and tinkling gold trinkets had no trouble penetrating Kingsley's brain. Though he had never considered the werewolf more than average looking before, the image of those long rangy limbs peeking out from amoung diaphanous scraps of material that revealed as much as they concealed had suddenly become a very attractive idea.  
  
"Fair is fair," Snape's voice had dropped to a level reminiscent of dark silk and chocolate that had Kingsley's pulse accelerating from where he stood on the other side of the door. "I did win the bet, after all."  
  
"Mm, you did at that."  
  
It was difficult to keep track of all that happened after that. But, from guttural moan that had sounded from the other side of the door moments later, it wasn't hard to imagine.  
  
Retreating silently back the way he had come, Kingsley had vowed to seek Lupin out at a later time, when the werewolf was not as _occupied_. In the meantime, he had something else that required his immediate attention that he intended to take in hand as soon as he could find a bit of privacy.  
  
Since that afternoon, Kingsley found himself thinking about what he'd overheard more and more. The idea of Snape and Lupin together, in bed, was becoming one of his own most frequent fantasies and he found himself watching them covertly at every opportunity.  
  
When he'd returned to speak with Lupin about the job, the furtive glance the werewolf cast toward where the Potions Master sat reading by the fire had not piqued his attention. The open collar on Snape's robes and Lupin's mussed hair, however, had led Kingsley to wonder if he'd allowed enough time between visits after all – a thought which had him writhing in his solitary bed later that evening.  
  
Weeks later, he'd caught a glimpse through the loo door that had sustained him through the next week's wankings -- Lupin had pinned Severus to the wall and was pounding into him with abandon, arse muscles clenching enticingly from the reflection within the mirror displaying the encounter for Kingsley's pleasure.  
  
But it was the belly-dancing costume that feature most frequently in Kingsley's fantasies when he was lying naked and alone at night, wishing for the thousandth time he could have found a lover who didn't balk at being involved with an Auror given the danger inherent in the job. Perhaps that was what he found so intriguing about the relationship Snape and Lupin seemed to have found together? Somehow, after all the war and strife both men had faced in their life, they had managed to find something like happiness and contentment with each other.  
  
Whatever it was, when the darkness of night whispered lonely thoughts into his mind, the image of Lupin in blue and gold chiffon entered into his thoughts to chase the loneliness away.  
  
The fantasy always started the same way. Lupin walked toward him from the shadows, hips swaying purposefully to set the tiny golden bells about his waist tinkling with each motion. The normally gentle brown eyes of the werewolf seemed to glow with an inner feral light as though he had seen his prey and would stake his claim that night. Scarves tied to wrists and elbows fluttered about the thin wiry frame, accentuating the toned muscles Kingsley imagined must be hidden beneath the werewolf's normally unassuming clothing.  
  
At this point, the fantasy could diverge in one of two directions. Sometimes, Kingsley imagined it was he who was the focus of that intense gaze, the contrast of Lupin's pale golden skin against his own dark coloring heightening the arousal.  
  
But, more often than not, his mind's eye gave Lupin the lover true life had given him as well.  
  
As Dream Lupin passed him, Kingsley would turn to see Snape, pale and luminous against a backdrop of midnight blue silk, lying patiently, just watching Lupin's approach. Before he reached the edge of the bed, which was only a vague impression in Kingsley's vision, the werewolf would pause and throw a wicked smirk over his shoulder where Kingsley might have sat were the scene to play out in reality. Then those hips that had so deliciously taunted him moments before began to sway in earnest, moving to a rhythm both fluid and primal, undulating in the most inviting seduction Kingsley had ever imagined. In truth, the way the other man's hips moved in his vision would have been illegal in the real world – or should have been.  
  
Nor was the Snape in his imaginings unaffected by the sight. As the werewolf raised his arms high above his head to add emphasis to the swiveling of his hips, Snape would shift position, crawling with all the grace of a panther to the edge of the bed. Long-fingered hands would drift lightly up well-muscled thighs as the ex-spy smirked up at his lover. Then that dark head would descend as Snape slowly took Lupin's shaft in his mouth, inch by inch, until that prodigious nose brushed the triangle of golden brown curls at the base.  
  
By this point in his fantasies, Kingsley had taken himself to hand, stroking in time with each slow undulation of Lupin's hips in his mind. As Snape's head began to bob smoothly up and down along the werewolf's full length, Kingsley thrust into his own hand, wishing for the moist heat he imagined engulfing Lupin. In his mind, the werewolf continued his dance as well as he could until the sheer pleasure of Snape's ministrations forced him to grasp a handful of fine, dark hair to steady himself.  
  
Kingsley's favorite part of the fantasy, and the part almost guaranteed to bring him to completion, was just as it seemed Lupin was about to come undone and spill himself into Snape's willing mouth. At that moment, his visionary Snape would suddenly stop, pulling back with a wicked smile before settling back on the bed and spreading his long, toned legs. His eyes never leaving Lupin's he slowly pushed first one finger, then two, into himself, thrusting as deeply as he could at that angle, preparing his body to accept his lover's. As his Snape fucked himself with his fingers, Lupin emitted a low growl that doubled in strength as those fingers were removed and long legs spread even wider in invitation.  
  
Invitation never went unanswered. Pulling the strips of thin material that made up his costume aside, Lupin would enter Snape in one swift thrust, causing the former Potions Master to cry out with pleasure pain at the joining, even as Kingsley whimpered with need in his solitary bed. With each thrust into the tight, warm body of Hogwarts' most feared professor, the muscles of Lupin's arse clenched and contracted beautifully, making Kingsley long to feel the hard, hot shaft of the werewolf pounding into his own arse, just to be able to grasp those muscles and feel them tense with each deep stroke. Both Snape and Kingsley's hands would stroke and squeeze their own throbbing lengths in time with Lupin's powerful thrusts, the air of both the bedroom of dreams and the one of reality filling with the low groans and moaning grunts of passion as all three neared the point of no return.  
  
It was always Snape who came first, the hot splashes of his release just visible around the image of Lupin's arse as the werewolf continued to take him forcibly. Moments later, the scent of the other man's completion and the clenching of his inner muscles would send Lupin howling over the edge, taking Kingsley with him as two more thrusts into his own hand were all that were required before his own release pulsed hotly onto his stomach.  
  
The fantasy never continued beyond that point. Even in his mind, Kingsley would give the other two men the privacy their post coital bliss seemed to demand, while he cast a cleansing charm upon himself and his bedding before turning over to spend the rest of the night alone and yearning.


End file.
